Seasons of dirt and dust
Creaky attic's, rotting core
I'm a spider in the pond
I don't belong amongst the floods and rocks
I want my web, I want my head
I want my mattress back, no more lead
Fingers are numb and with heavy cracks
Licking rusted spoons to find old flavor
Picking and snipping old photos in the shoebox
I want my own comfort
I don't feel, I want my pleasure
I want my pillow, no more pressure
What is it your holding?
Is it a way out
Get me out of cell
I want the Bed back
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Author:
The 2 A.M Writer (
Offline) - Published: August 2nd, 2016 21:21
- Comment from author about the poem: Being lost. All I got for now
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
Offline)
Comments1
Have you been listening "Alice in Chains" and their "Man in the Box"?
Yes actually. Kind of what inspired me to write the poem actually
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